shipperchick
8th July 2003, 07:41
Title: Newtonian Physics
Disclaimer: This is plotless smoof (smut + foof). It’s cheesy smoof. It’s *processed cheese* smoof. You have been warned.
Legal Disclaimer: The characters and situations of 'Smallville' belong to Warner Brothers, TRP Productions, DC Comics and other related entities. No profit is being made from this endeavor.
Dedication: For Carina, the most thorough, incisive, talented and *thoughtful* editor a girl could ask for. She’s working with me on another Chlex fic, ‘Turn Of The Hour’, which I’m working on again since I’ve gotten my writing momentum back! Her help was invaluable, and will make my writing oh-so-much better. She didn’t read this one because I just wanted to get it out of my system, so all mistakes are my fault entirely. Thank you for everything, Carina… watch your inbox!
Note: This is what happens when you get bored in your Physics Review class. Written in response to Tara LJC’s Screw Clark! Challenge at:
http://www.loony-archivist.com/chloe
Newton’s Laws:
1) An object at rest or in motion will tend to remain in that state unless an external force is applied to it.
2) F=ma
3) Fab=Fba
NEWTONIAN PHYSICS
= = = = = =
The sound of approaching voices had Lex Luthor rustling his paper, fanning out the pages and hunkering down, hoping desperately to be left alone.
Mercifully, the voices stopped a few feet away and dropped in altitude, obviously settling into the couch set back-to-back with his overstuffed armchair, hidden from view by several leafy ferns.
Relaxing, Lex leaned forward and grabbed his coffee. He was in the middle of a second appreciative sip when the voices, just audible enough to make tuning out impossible, began again. His brow wrinkling in irritation, Lex sighed mightily. This was the price he paid for remaining undetected – becoming an unwilling eavesdropper on a conversation that was, from the few words he’d already heard, chock full of teenaged agony.
“I’m telling you Pete, it’s not that easy.”
“And I’m telling you Chloe, it is.” The insistent voice of Pete Ross, one of Lex’s most vehement detractors, had Lex groaning silently. Not only did he have to suffer through adolescent angst, a great deal of it was probably going to be insults hurled down on the Luthor name and by extension, Lex’s own head.
“Look Chloe, it’s up to you to move on, you know this.”
“No, look, Pete…” a heavy anguished sigh, and Lex cringed. Whatever followed that sound couldn’t be good.
“It’s like Mr. Hutchins was saying in class. I’m living proof of the first law of physics, inertia. Things stay on the same path unless acted on by an outside force. My sorry ass is stuck in this teenage angst-fest for a while. I can’t change that, you can’t either.”
Chloe’s voice was acerbic but dispirited. From the sound of it, a great deal of her anger was directed at herself and her inability to ‘move on’, as Pete was urging.
“ And I’m telling you Chloe, you’re the only one thinking what old man Hutchins tells us has *any* relevance in the real world. You’re just hiding from reality and using *schoolwork*, of all things,” this with an unmistakable though unseen moue of distaste, “to hide behind.”
“In the eloquent verbiage of our generation, Pete, bite me. And anyway, since when are you my own personal guru? I thought you’d given up on me as a hopelessly lost cause.”
“All part of the best friend package, Chloe, all part of the package. And I know you’re no lost cause – just a little turned around. Must be that girlie sense of direction.”
“Hey!” The exclamation was accompanied by the sound of flesh hitting cloth, and Lex’s lips compressed with suppressed laughter.
“You take that back, Peter Ross!” More pummeling noises ensued. “You can mock my hopeless crush on our resident hero all you want, but *no one* mocks the girlpower!”
“Chloe…Chlo’! Get off me! Okay, okay, I take it back, I take it back!”
Breathless laughter followed, dying down into simple breathlessness as a heavy thump indicated Chloe’s return to the couch.
“Seriously, though, Chloe…” the boy’s voice grew unexpectedly tender and serious, and Lex’s disdain for him dropped a few notches. “You know I’m here for you, and I want you to be happy is all, right?”
Several beats of silence followed, and Lex was overcome with a fierce desire to peek and see what was going on. He was saved from this potentially embarrassing course of action by Chloe’s quiet sigh.
“Yeah Pete, I know. I know.”
More silence, broken by the occasional slurp of coffee and the shifting of bodies on cloth. It was a peaceful silence, empty of the tension Lex would have expected.
A few minutes later he was questioning his assumption when the sound of feet hitting floor erupted behind him, sending him scrambling for cover behind his long-forgotten paper.
“Well, this misguided cause has to visit the little girl’s room. Wish me luck in not getting lost.” The words had the slightest acidic tinge.
“Bite me.” The response however, was playful, an unspoken plea for forgiveness. “And bring me a scone when you get back?”
“Right back at you.” The words responding to Pete’s first sentence were dripping in frost, and Lex winced involuntarily in sympathy.
‘Oooh. Shot down.’ Lex thought, with a small twinge of disapproval at Chloe’s apparent unforgiving stance. The boy *had* been trying to help.
“…what flavor do you want?”
‘Maybe not so shot down.’ This thought was rueful, as Lex was reminded of how little he actually knew about friendships like this.
“Surprise me.” Pete’s rejoinder was smooth, as if he’d fully expected her forgiveness for the interference.
“Oooh… them be dangerous words, Mr. Ross, dangerous words.”
The teasing words drifted back towards the two men hidden from each other as Chloe’s footsteps faded away, and Lex looked blankly down at his now frankly uninteresting business section. He’d much rather consider the remarkable conversation he’d just overheard.
Lex had long since stopped questioning why exactly he was so fascinated by the neverending drama of Smallville teenagers, especially those surrounding the ever enigmatic Clark Kent. He figured it was self-preservation; what kept him from dying of sheer boredom in Crapville. Lately, though, he’d found Clark’s mooning over the delectable Lana Lang well… boring. Despite Lex’s many subtle and non-subtle pushes, Clark stubbornly refused to commit to the healthy normalcy of the adolescent dating routine, instead dancing around Lana like… well, like nothing Lex had ever seen before. The novelty factor had faded fast.
Chloe now, she was an entirely different kettle of fish. It was intriguing, how caught up the young plant manager’s daughter was in Clark’s charms. He’d heard Gabe’s incessant retellings of Chloe's dinnertime commentaries, and thus knew the young woman to be almost frighteningly intelligent. The poor thing seemed to be stuck in a rut though, unable to use that formidable intelligence to extricate herself from the classic devil’s snare – love. Pity.
“An outside force….” Chloe’s words echoed in his head and suddenly a wicked, wicked idea occurred to Lex. Should he? Could he? Dare he?
The answer, as Lex folded his paper into exquisitely sharp fourths and stood, was – of course.
Lex smirked – the skin of his lips thinning and baring his teeth in an altogether feral expression. It had been entirely too long since he’d done something wicked.
= = = =
He found her exiting the restroom, shaking dry her hands. He cornered her against the wall in a series of silky strides that ate up the space between them. Her polite acknowledgement died in her throat as he pushed into her space. Their gazes met – she staring up, he staring down – a titan clash of green and blue.
Her eyes flew impossibly wide as his lips descended on hers, stroking across them in butterfly touches before his tongue reached out, licking the underside of her upper lip and sending electric shocks jolting jaggedly down her throat.
She gasped and her hand, unconsciously flattened against his chest, fisted to push him away.
“What…” she stopped for a moment, still gasping for breath. “What the *hell* are you doing?”
He smiled, a Cheshire grin that unfurled across his face and made her stomach tingle – pleasantly or unpleasantly she could not say.
“I,” he lowered his face to hers, brushing his lips against eyes that fluttered closed with his approach, “am being,” he licked her nose and her eyes opened in surprise at the sensation, “a positive,” the words vibrated along her tendons as his mouth pressed along her neck, “*force*,” the emphasis on the word widened her eyes as Chloe’s earlier words returned to her, “on Smallville’s youth.”
Her eyes narrowed as he chuckled against her clavicle. Lacking hair to pull on, Chloe fisted her hands in the fabric of his oh-so-expensive suit to drag his delightfully wicked tongue away from her inflamed skin.
“You were eavesdropping on me?” Her outrage was significantly weaker than it ought to be, she thought muzzily. It might have had something to do with the hand that had just cupped her breast through the sheer cloth of her top – or maybe the nimble fingers that were currently rubbing across her increasingly pebbled nipple.
He laughed again, a rich rumble that, combined with his one hand cupping her gently and the other pulling her hips flush with his, sent an unbelievable curl of warmth straight to her center, where it had absolutely *no* business being.
“Do you really care?”
He gave her no time to respond as his lips once more found hers, but this time there was no gentleness in them. They were hard and heavy on her mouth and when she gasped for air, he used the opportunity to invade, his tongue slicking along the inside of her lips, hollowing the curve of her check, finding purchase in the sandpaper roughness of her tongue. Her thousand and one vehement protests melted into a mewl of helpless pleasure, just as her form melted into his, Lex’s arms forming an iron ring around her waist the only thing keeping her upright.
He broke the kiss and growled his pleasure at her silent acquiescence. His forehead rested against hers as they panted for breath in unison. Her eyes darted back and forth with the speed of hummingbird wings, searching his for some form of concrete answer. Doubt crept in on the edges, but was banished as he leaned down again and sipped from her mouth, drinking in the ocean breeze feel of her skin.
She noticed for the first time that he tasted like mint mocha and something faintly alcoholic underneath – sweet and crisp with a dry burn chaser. Then coherent thought fractured and fell away.
Insistent arms cris-crossed across the small of her back, gathering her further into him, molding their bodies together. Talented hands dug into the soft curve of her butt and lifted her, pushing them until the stucco of the wall bit painfully into her back. She had no choice, with her legs dangling in the air and her hands scrambling to hold his mouth to hers, but to respond to his unspoken demand and wrap her legs around his waist.
Her only anchor to reality became the bite of that wall into her skin. His hands snuck under her top, short nails scraping across the skin of her side. An upward sweep of his smooth fingerpads, and she was moaning his name, a sound she’d *never* even conceived of making, as one finger insinuated itself between her flimsy underwire and the warm flesh beneath.
A cool rush of air against her back sent her crashing back to Earth. Her eyes fluttered open, fuzzed with desire, filled with confusion.
“What are you doing?”
Her voice was a shock, low and husky as she’d never heard it before – rough with passion and disbelief. The sound of it pleased him, the dark hunger of his pupils spilling into his ice blue gaze – an entirely visceral response. To her. Chloe Sullivan.
His voice when he answered fit the animal gaze she was faced with, as rough as hers, a bass rumble that resounded through her body, wrapped like a vice around his. His words were completely at odds with it.
“Newton’s…” the intensity of his voice obviously caught him by surprise, and he cleared his throat, trying again for the playful tone he’d intended.
“Newton’s Second Law, Chloe,” it was the first time he’d said her name, and the shiver it engendered had him clasping her closer, lest she slip away.
“And what…” she tried her best to match his tone, shaking herself from the drugged fantasy feeling that surrounded her. Well, as much as possible given the fact that she currently had her legs wrapped around *Lex Luthor* for chrissakes.
“…what,” she continued (wo)manfully, “would that be?”
He pushed away from the wall with Chloe still wrapped around his body, his arms enfolding her tiny frame.
“Simple.”
The sound of his dress shoes reverberated in the empty hallway, each step vibrating up through her entire body.
“The net force on a body,” his fingers pressing into the curve of her waist left her in no doubt as to the force – or body – in question. “Is equal to the mass,” his hand curved underneath her body, once again cupping her butt and supporting *her* mass effortlessly as his other hand reached out to open the door leading to the Talon’s office.
Stepping through, Lex closed and locked the door one-handed with a loud click. He sped up, walking rapidly across the office until suddenly Chloe found herself momentarily airborne, then gently deposited on the office couch. With a self-satisfied smirk, Lex joined her, his body moving rapidly to cover her own as he leaned above her. “Times acceleration.”
She was given no time to protest the relevance of the definition as he swooped in and began his assault on her sanity in earnest.
His hands on her skin were flashpoints, setting off miniature explosions wherever they fell. His lips and nose nuzzled along her shoulder and throat as his fingers insistently pushed up her blouse, exposing her torso to a draft that had her shivering delicately. The flat of his warm palm took care of the chill, though her shivering increased. When his fingers reached back and expertly flicked the hooks of her bra open, her eyes glazed in anticipation. When his fingers pulled down the straps and his teeth the lacey front, her mouth opened in a silent moan.
He soothed her with lips laving her earlobe, and she chuckled at the insanity of it all.
“You know,” she mentioned conversationally as he began whispering wicked nothings in her ear, “this is insane.”
His gaze met hers and then crinkled at the edges in an honest-to-god, open smile. “Yeah, but so is everything else in this town. Why not this?”
She tilted her head, testing the sense of his words. Finding them acceptable, she reached up, short capable fingers cupping his scalp and bringing his mouth down hard to hers.
It was playful as he licked her areola like a puppy with a new treat. She giggled when his fingers danced across her calf and gasped when they slid along the arch of her foot. All humor left her when his teeth set themselves gently in her nipple, and she came off the couch in a perfect arch, her groan loud and demanding.
When he kissed her across her stomach, her breathing slowed and stilled, and he looked up at her in question.
“What about Clark?”
The words were rough and heavy, filled with a hundred levels of inquiry. ‘What about your friendship with Clark? What about mine? What will this *mean*?’ He looked down and skated his fingers across her arm, and although her shiver was all he could wish for, her gaze was still determined and unwavering when he lifted his to meet it.
His eyes dropped again to her skirt. It was chiffon and multi-layered and colorful, but more important to him was the ease with which his fingers crept underneath it and sketched patterns along her inner thigh.
He sighed and lifted his gaze. Hers was heavy with trepidation. He traced his fingers along the wet fold of her underwear, her breath hissing as his thumb hooked the fabric and scraped it aside.
“Screw Clark.”
The words were light hearted, the actions not as his finger slid inside her and she gasped again, hands clutching for purchase against the fabric of the couch. His mouth stretched into a smile matched by his eyes as another appendage joined the first and he plunged them into her, fingers crooked just enough to have her choking out his name.
“Or, in your case – not.”
Her eyes, half closed in languorous pleasure, flared open at his facetiousness, outrage battling with her body’s traitorous response to his actions. When they met the ice blue of his gaze, whimsy thinly masking a brutal hunger, the anger fled. It was replaced by nothing but a white-hot wash of sensation as his fingers began to stroke within her walls, his thumb caressing the sensitive flesh surrounding her clit.
She discovered octaves within her as he coaxed new sounds from her expertly. His fingers thrust deeper, more insistently as his mouth returned its attention to the tender valley between her breasts, drinking in her skin with all of his senses. He was master of cliché, playing her like a violin.
Her voice screamed and soared with exultation as his thumb brushed across the nerve bundle itself. The delicate action threw the rough thrust of his remaining fingers in sharp relief, and her breath became a jagged, gasping thing. She wept for release and pleaded for further torture, one hand pushing his head half-heartedly away from its exploration of her torso as the other joined his at her soaked core, pushing him frantically further.
Lex opened his eyes, revealing the shade she’d only ever before seen at the heart of the hottest flame. His pupils had become pinpoints, everything about him laser-intense and focused. The laser of his gaze continued as he bent down, eyes locked with hers as his tongue, mobile torturer’s device that it was, replaced his thumb in flicking ever-so-delicately over her center, lapping gently at the moist heat that filled all his other senses.
Chloe could hold his gaze for only a few moments before the sensation became overwhelming and her head rolled back against the cushions. Together, they brought her over the edge, her hand over his, thrusting in concert. When she came, it was unpracticed and raw, something that was new to him entirely – and very little was new to him at all. Her uncontrolled jerks and unconscious internal spasms around their entwined hands were enough to have him closing his eyes and swearing softly, sweat beading his forehead in a mighty effort to not embarrass himself.
Long moments passed as Chloe drifted gently back, giving Lex the time to recover himself and ease the way for her with a series of soft kisses and caresses. There was not, as he’d expected, a sudden rise in the tension between them. Instead, she opened her eyes, startling in their mossy-green and vibrant hue. More startling in their direct confrontation with his own carefully neutral gaze.
“Wow.” The smile unfolding across her face was like sunshine breaking through clouds, though Lex chided himself internally at the use of the tired phrase. It was pure bliss, unencumbered by regret or doubt, and Lex was assaulted by a fierce surge of pride; base and basic in its origins. He was fiercely proud that *he* had done this, had unclothed the naked beauty of this girl’s spirit, stripped of pain and polite suffering, damn the cost.
“Wow.” He quietly agreed, and the smooth grin that spread across his mouth was a close approximation of hers, hindered only by the throbbing heat between his own legs.
The look in her eyes was a keen one as she took in the lesser glory of his expression. One pale eyebrow arched, and Lex felt a quick pulse of alarm – exactly *what* incisive power had been unleashed from its confines? For he knew that in an instant, she had assessed the situation, decided the best course of action, and determined to follow through. Damn the cost. It was left only for her to clue him in on the decision. But make no mistake, the decision had been made.
She shifted herself, pushing back to gain enough leverage and return to a semi-sitting position from her uninhibited sprawl across the upholstery. Lex’s fingers reluctantly slipped from inside her, and they both winced slightly at the sudden chill – physical as well as mental. He remained where he was, awkwardly crouched at her feet, the hand that had been so recently within her cradled protectively at his side.
Chloe looked down at herself and snorted in amusement as she surveyed the damage; one cup of her bra ripped beyond repair, clothes wrinkled almost beyond recognition. Her gaze fell upon him, still immaculately attired from head to toe, and her forehead wrinkled in concentration. Lex tensed, and suddenly found himself awash in regret. He was certain that this was it, the end, when she ran screaming from the room and he was driven from the town like the pariah they’d always suspected him to be.
Luthors, he later thought dimly in some far recess of his mind, were certain of all the wrong things.
The thought was a last piece of cognitive flotsam, his higher functions torn asunder by a tsunami of raw, uncivilized, untempered hunger as Chloe ripped past his defenses with an utterly unexpected act; though by now he should have learned to *expect* the unexpected from her.
Calmly, with a deadpan expression that gave him no hint to her intentions, she leaned over. Picking up his hand, *the* hand – still glistening with the coating of her fluids, she nonchalantly set about licking his fingers.
Each. And. Every. One.
Dry.
Lex’s groan was full-bodied and thunderous, and his eyes startled open, wondering fleetingly if the innocent, ignorant, Talon patrons had just gotten an earful. He found himself without the will to much care, though, as her hands left his and grabbed his lapels, hauling him up to land beside her. He laid sprawled out, half-sitting, half-reclining as she had been seconds before.
Now, Chloe was turning, full breasts swaying gently and sending another painful twitch through his groin. Laughing in sympathy as Lex moaned in protest, Chloe craned her neck to look him in the eye from her new vantage point. The sympathy did Lex little good as he surveyed her from her new position, tucked underneath his arm, breasts pushed up and brushing hard nipples against the fabric of his suit, skirt hiked to reveal the wet crotch of her panties between wantonly splayed legs.
Lex whimpered. Then he reached down tentatively, his hand moving almost of its own accord, to capture one of the taunting nipples between his fingers, rolling it gently and hissing in appreciation. Chloe gasped herself, but firmly pulled Lex’s hand away. He stilled, unsure of his position and absurdly hurt by her apparent rejection.
Chloe clucked quietly, one hand reaching up to pull Lex’s gaze towards hers. His eyes had gone distant, retreating to a place where he could deal with the discomfort and the ramifications of his actions. She clucked louder when she saw this, and shook her head reprovingly.
“Lex, Lex… you know better than that.”
His eyes grew softer -- still guarded, but less distant. He didn’t know what she meant, but he did know that the Chloe Sullivan that had been gasping at his actions minutes before was made of sterner stuff. She wasn’t going to run screaming from… whatever this was, he had at least that reassurance.
Playfully, Chloe pulled at the buttons of his silken shirt, fingers sliding in between the buttons to gently abrade his smooth chest with her calluses. Her gaze was down, concentrating entirely on her task as she unbuttoned his shirt slowly, steadily exposing an expanse of leanly muscled, pale skin for her palms to delight in.
He gasped as they did just that, hands teasing their way from one of his nipples to the next, plucking them into reluctant points. Satisfied with their task, her fingers trailed idly up and down his torso, seemingly with no purpose, dancing points of light against his skin.
They continued that way for a minute – an hour, he could not say. All Lex could vouch for was the expression in her eyes when Chloe finally did look up. Startling green embers met his gaze, and he was struck by the similarity in their expressions. Her face seemed taut, angles and planes sharply defined as her hunger and her determination made her less, and more.
The fierce glow in her eyes softened, and he was reminded that Chloe might not be a master yet, but she was well on her way to savant status. All at once she was a playful, giggling creature, full of mischief and good cheer. He didn’t know if that boded ill or well for him.
“Want to know a secret?” She whispered the words in his ear, soft lips brushing the smooth cartilage and doing indescribable things to all parts of Lex’s anatomy. He barely had the strength to nod as his hands, safely anchored on her shoulder and the sofa’s arm, squeezed tight in response to the dual sensation of her lips on his ear and her fingers twirling across his chest.
“Newton’s Third Law has always been a personal favorite.”
He gasped as one of her fingers playfully flicked his belly button, inches away from his painfully tented trousers.
“And which… which one…”
The sentence, half-gasped to begin with, remained unfinished as her hand smoothed the length of his erection through the thin silk of his pants. Helpless, Lex bucked up off the couch into her waiting hand, fingers gently massaging him as he moaned in a broken, desperate fashion.
His eyes fluttered open as the zipper sounded loud in the air, and hot hands found their way inside his boxers. She was grinning impishly at him, and he had a feeling that she’d tell him anyway.
“Every action, Lex…”, warm fingers surrounded him, a sure grip found its way to the base of his penis and squeezed firmly, “has an equal”, her fingers curved around to cup his sac and squeezed again to emphasize her point, “and opposite”, her eyes dancing, Chloe’s teeth bit gently into his nipple as her fingers flicked his head and used the pre-cum found there to lubricate their path, “reaction.”
The last word was muffled by Chloe’s firm but tender suction on his chest. Lex didn’t have the brains to care, though, as her hand once more gripped him at the base and pulled, long and slow, the skin behind her hand pulled taut as she slid her hand down towards his head. And then did it again. And again.
Gasping, Lex’s head rolled back and he watched from half-closed eyes as she returned his favor, hands working with an innate gift upon his body. He arched up against the couch in an imitation of her earlier movement when she found by touch the dimple in his penis’ head and pressed her blunt nail into it.
She raised her head at his reaction and their gazes met. She was playfully expectant, eyebrow arched. He gave her what she wanted;
“Newton’s Third Law. Definitely my favorite. Definitely.”
….and was rewarded amply for it.
END
Disclaimer: This is plotless smoof (smut + foof). It’s cheesy smoof. It’s *processed cheese* smoof. You have been warned.
Legal Disclaimer: The characters and situations of 'Smallville' belong to Warner Brothers, TRP Productions, DC Comics and other related entities. No profit is being made from this endeavor.
Dedication: For Carina, the most thorough, incisive, talented and *thoughtful* editor a girl could ask for. She’s working with me on another Chlex fic, ‘Turn Of The Hour’, which I’m working on again since I’ve gotten my writing momentum back! Her help was invaluable, and will make my writing oh-so-much better. She didn’t read this one because I just wanted to get it out of my system, so all mistakes are my fault entirely. Thank you for everything, Carina… watch your inbox!
Note: This is what happens when you get bored in your Physics Review class. Written in response to Tara LJC’s Screw Clark! Challenge at:
http://www.loony-archivist.com/chloe
Newton’s Laws:
1) An object at rest or in motion will tend to remain in that state unless an external force is applied to it.
2) F=ma
3) Fab=Fba
NEWTONIAN PHYSICS
= = = = = =
The sound of approaching voices had Lex Luthor rustling his paper, fanning out the pages and hunkering down, hoping desperately to be left alone.
Mercifully, the voices stopped a few feet away and dropped in altitude, obviously settling into the couch set back-to-back with his overstuffed armchair, hidden from view by several leafy ferns.
Relaxing, Lex leaned forward and grabbed his coffee. He was in the middle of a second appreciative sip when the voices, just audible enough to make tuning out impossible, began again. His brow wrinkling in irritation, Lex sighed mightily. This was the price he paid for remaining undetected – becoming an unwilling eavesdropper on a conversation that was, from the few words he’d already heard, chock full of teenaged agony.
“I’m telling you Pete, it’s not that easy.”
“And I’m telling you Chloe, it is.” The insistent voice of Pete Ross, one of Lex’s most vehement detractors, had Lex groaning silently. Not only did he have to suffer through adolescent angst, a great deal of it was probably going to be insults hurled down on the Luthor name and by extension, Lex’s own head.
“Look Chloe, it’s up to you to move on, you know this.”
“No, look, Pete…” a heavy anguished sigh, and Lex cringed. Whatever followed that sound couldn’t be good.
“It’s like Mr. Hutchins was saying in class. I’m living proof of the first law of physics, inertia. Things stay on the same path unless acted on by an outside force. My sorry ass is stuck in this teenage angst-fest for a while. I can’t change that, you can’t either.”
Chloe’s voice was acerbic but dispirited. From the sound of it, a great deal of her anger was directed at herself and her inability to ‘move on’, as Pete was urging.
“ And I’m telling you Chloe, you’re the only one thinking what old man Hutchins tells us has *any* relevance in the real world. You’re just hiding from reality and using *schoolwork*, of all things,” this with an unmistakable though unseen moue of distaste, “to hide behind.”
“In the eloquent verbiage of our generation, Pete, bite me. And anyway, since when are you my own personal guru? I thought you’d given up on me as a hopelessly lost cause.”
“All part of the best friend package, Chloe, all part of the package. And I know you’re no lost cause – just a little turned around. Must be that girlie sense of direction.”
“Hey!” The exclamation was accompanied by the sound of flesh hitting cloth, and Lex’s lips compressed with suppressed laughter.
“You take that back, Peter Ross!” More pummeling noises ensued. “You can mock my hopeless crush on our resident hero all you want, but *no one* mocks the girlpower!”
“Chloe…Chlo’! Get off me! Okay, okay, I take it back, I take it back!”
Breathless laughter followed, dying down into simple breathlessness as a heavy thump indicated Chloe’s return to the couch.
“Seriously, though, Chloe…” the boy’s voice grew unexpectedly tender and serious, and Lex’s disdain for him dropped a few notches. “You know I’m here for you, and I want you to be happy is all, right?”
Several beats of silence followed, and Lex was overcome with a fierce desire to peek and see what was going on. He was saved from this potentially embarrassing course of action by Chloe’s quiet sigh.
“Yeah Pete, I know. I know.”
More silence, broken by the occasional slurp of coffee and the shifting of bodies on cloth. It was a peaceful silence, empty of the tension Lex would have expected.
A few minutes later he was questioning his assumption when the sound of feet hitting floor erupted behind him, sending him scrambling for cover behind his long-forgotten paper.
“Well, this misguided cause has to visit the little girl’s room. Wish me luck in not getting lost.” The words had the slightest acidic tinge.
“Bite me.” The response however, was playful, an unspoken plea for forgiveness. “And bring me a scone when you get back?”
“Right back at you.” The words responding to Pete’s first sentence were dripping in frost, and Lex winced involuntarily in sympathy.
‘Oooh. Shot down.’ Lex thought, with a small twinge of disapproval at Chloe’s apparent unforgiving stance. The boy *had* been trying to help.
“…what flavor do you want?”
‘Maybe not so shot down.’ This thought was rueful, as Lex was reminded of how little he actually knew about friendships like this.
“Surprise me.” Pete’s rejoinder was smooth, as if he’d fully expected her forgiveness for the interference.
“Oooh… them be dangerous words, Mr. Ross, dangerous words.”
The teasing words drifted back towards the two men hidden from each other as Chloe’s footsteps faded away, and Lex looked blankly down at his now frankly uninteresting business section. He’d much rather consider the remarkable conversation he’d just overheard.
Lex had long since stopped questioning why exactly he was so fascinated by the neverending drama of Smallville teenagers, especially those surrounding the ever enigmatic Clark Kent. He figured it was self-preservation; what kept him from dying of sheer boredom in Crapville. Lately, though, he’d found Clark’s mooning over the delectable Lana Lang well… boring. Despite Lex’s many subtle and non-subtle pushes, Clark stubbornly refused to commit to the healthy normalcy of the adolescent dating routine, instead dancing around Lana like… well, like nothing Lex had ever seen before. The novelty factor had faded fast.
Chloe now, she was an entirely different kettle of fish. It was intriguing, how caught up the young plant manager’s daughter was in Clark’s charms. He’d heard Gabe’s incessant retellings of Chloe's dinnertime commentaries, and thus knew the young woman to be almost frighteningly intelligent. The poor thing seemed to be stuck in a rut though, unable to use that formidable intelligence to extricate herself from the classic devil’s snare – love. Pity.
“An outside force….” Chloe’s words echoed in his head and suddenly a wicked, wicked idea occurred to Lex. Should he? Could he? Dare he?
The answer, as Lex folded his paper into exquisitely sharp fourths and stood, was – of course.
Lex smirked – the skin of his lips thinning and baring his teeth in an altogether feral expression. It had been entirely too long since he’d done something wicked.
= = = =
He found her exiting the restroom, shaking dry her hands. He cornered her against the wall in a series of silky strides that ate up the space between them. Her polite acknowledgement died in her throat as he pushed into her space. Their gazes met – she staring up, he staring down – a titan clash of green and blue.
Her eyes flew impossibly wide as his lips descended on hers, stroking across them in butterfly touches before his tongue reached out, licking the underside of her upper lip and sending electric shocks jolting jaggedly down her throat.
She gasped and her hand, unconsciously flattened against his chest, fisted to push him away.
“What…” she stopped for a moment, still gasping for breath. “What the *hell* are you doing?”
He smiled, a Cheshire grin that unfurled across his face and made her stomach tingle – pleasantly or unpleasantly she could not say.
“I,” he lowered his face to hers, brushing his lips against eyes that fluttered closed with his approach, “am being,” he licked her nose and her eyes opened in surprise at the sensation, “a positive,” the words vibrated along her tendons as his mouth pressed along her neck, “*force*,” the emphasis on the word widened her eyes as Chloe’s earlier words returned to her, “on Smallville’s youth.”
Her eyes narrowed as he chuckled against her clavicle. Lacking hair to pull on, Chloe fisted her hands in the fabric of his oh-so-expensive suit to drag his delightfully wicked tongue away from her inflamed skin.
“You were eavesdropping on me?” Her outrage was significantly weaker than it ought to be, she thought muzzily. It might have had something to do with the hand that had just cupped her breast through the sheer cloth of her top – or maybe the nimble fingers that were currently rubbing across her increasingly pebbled nipple.
He laughed again, a rich rumble that, combined with his one hand cupping her gently and the other pulling her hips flush with his, sent an unbelievable curl of warmth straight to her center, where it had absolutely *no* business being.
“Do you really care?”
He gave her no time to respond as his lips once more found hers, but this time there was no gentleness in them. They were hard and heavy on her mouth and when she gasped for air, he used the opportunity to invade, his tongue slicking along the inside of her lips, hollowing the curve of her check, finding purchase in the sandpaper roughness of her tongue. Her thousand and one vehement protests melted into a mewl of helpless pleasure, just as her form melted into his, Lex’s arms forming an iron ring around her waist the only thing keeping her upright.
He broke the kiss and growled his pleasure at her silent acquiescence. His forehead rested against hers as they panted for breath in unison. Her eyes darted back and forth with the speed of hummingbird wings, searching his for some form of concrete answer. Doubt crept in on the edges, but was banished as he leaned down again and sipped from her mouth, drinking in the ocean breeze feel of her skin.
She noticed for the first time that he tasted like mint mocha and something faintly alcoholic underneath – sweet and crisp with a dry burn chaser. Then coherent thought fractured and fell away.
Insistent arms cris-crossed across the small of her back, gathering her further into him, molding their bodies together. Talented hands dug into the soft curve of her butt and lifted her, pushing them until the stucco of the wall bit painfully into her back. She had no choice, with her legs dangling in the air and her hands scrambling to hold his mouth to hers, but to respond to his unspoken demand and wrap her legs around his waist.
Her only anchor to reality became the bite of that wall into her skin. His hands snuck under her top, short nails scraping across the skin of her side. An upward sweep of his smooth fingerpads, and she was moaning his name, a sound she’d *never* even conceived of making, as one finger insinuated itself between her flimsy underwire and the warm flesh beneath.
A cool rush of air against her back sent her crashing back to Earth. Her eyes fluttered open, fuzzed with desire, filled with confusion.
“What are you doing?”
Her voice was a shock, low and husky as she’d never heard it before – rough with passion and disbelief. The sound of it pleased him, the dark hunger of his pupils spilling into his ice blue gaze – an entirely visceral response. To her. Chloe Sullivan.
His voice when he answered fit the animal gaze she was faced with, as rough as hers, a bass rumble that resounded through her body, wrapped like a vice around his. His words were completely at odds with it.
“Newton’s…” the intensity of his voice obviously caught him by surprise, and he cleared his throat, trying again for the playful tone he’d intended.
“Newton’s Second Law, Chloe,” it was the first time he’d said her name, and the shiver it engendered had him clasping her closer, lest she slip away.
“And what…” she tried her best to match his tone, shaking herself from the drugged fantasy feeling that surrounded her. Well, as much as possible given the fact that she currently had her legs wrapped around *Lex Luthor* for chrissakes.
“…what,” she continued (wo)manfully, “would that be?”
He pushed away from the wall with Chloe still wrapped around his body, his arms enfolding her tiny frame.
“Simple.”
The sound of his dress shoes reverberated in the empty hallway, each step vibrating up through her entire body.
“The net force on a body,” his fingers pressing into the curve of her waist left her in no doubt as to the force – or body – in question. “Is equal to the mass,” his hand curved underneath her body, once again cupping her butt and supporting *her* mass effortlessly as his other hand reached out to open the door leading to the Talon’s office.
Stepping through, Lex closed and locked the door one-handed with a loud click. He sped up, walking rapidly across the office until suddenly Chloe found herself momentarily airborne, then gently deposited on the office couch. With a self-satisfied smirk, Lex joined her, his body moving rapidly to cover her own as he leaned above her. “Times acceleration.”
She was given no time to protest the relevance of the definition as he swooped in and began his assault on her sanity in earnest.
His hands on her skin were flashpoints, setting off miniature explosions wherever they fell. His lips and nose nuzzled along her shoulder and throat as his fingers insistently pushed up her blouse, exposing her torso to a draft that had her shivering delicately. The flat of his warm palm took care of the chill, though her shivering increased. When his fingers reached back and expertly flicked the hooks of her bra open, her eyes glazed in anticipation. When his fingers pulled down the straps and his teeth the lacey front, her mouth opened in a silent moan.
He soothed her with lips laving her earlobe, and she chuckled at the insanity of it all.
“You know,” she mentioned conversationally as he began whispering wicked nothings in her ear, “this is insane.”
His gaze met hers and then crinkled at the edges in an honest-to-god, open smile. “Yeah, but so is everything else in this town. Why not this?”
She tilted her head, testing the sense of his words. Finding them acceptable, she reached up, short capable fingers cupping his scalp and bringing his mouth down hard to hers.
It was playful as he licked her areola like a puppy with a new treat. She giggled when his fingers danced across her calf and gasped when they slid along the arch of her foot. All humor left her when his teeth set themselves gently in her nipple, and she came off the couch in a perfect arch, her groan loud and demanding.
When he kissed her across her stomach, her breathing slowed and stilled, and he looked up at her in question.
“What about Clark?”
The words were rough and heavy, filled with a hundred levels of inquiry. ‘What about your friendship with Clark? What about mine? What will this *mean*?’ He looked down and skated his fingers across her arm, and although her shiver was all he could wish for, her gaze was still determined and unwavering when he lifted his to meet it.
His eyes dropped again to her skirt. It was chiffon and multi-layered and colorful, but more important to him was the ease with which his fingers crept underneath it and sketched patterns along her inner thigh.
He sighed and lifted his gaze. Hers was heavy with trepidation. He traced his fingers along the wet fold of her underwear, her breath hissing as his thumb hooked the fabric and scraped it aside.
“Screw Clark.”
The words were light hearted, the actions not as his finger slid inside her and she gasped again, hands clutching for purchase against the fabric of the couch. His mouth stretched into a smile matched by his eyes as another appendage joined the first and he plunged them into her, fingers crooked just enough to have her choking out his name.
“Or, in your case – not.”
Her eyes, half closed in languorous pleasure, flared open at his facetiousness, outrage battling with her body’s traitorous response to his actions. When they met the ice blue of his gaze, whimsy thinly masking a brutal hunger, the anger fled. It was replaced by nothing but a white-hot wash of sensation as his fingers began to stroke within her walls, his thumb caressing the sensitive flesh surrounding her clit.
She discovered octaves within her as he coaxed new sounds from her expertly. His fingers thrust deeper, more insistently as his mouth returned its attention to the tender valley between her breasts, drinking in her skin with all of his senses. He was master of cliché, playing her like a violin.
Her voice screamed and soared with exultation as his thumb brushed across the nerve bundle itself. The delicate action threw the rough thrust of his remaining fingers in sharp relief, and her breath became a jagged, gasping thing. She wept for release and pleaded for further torture, one hand pushing his head half-heartedly away from its exploration of her torso as the other joined his at her soaked core, pushing him frantically further.
Lex opened his eyes, revealing the shade she’d only ever before seen at the heart of the hottest flame. His pupils had become pinpoints, everything about him laser-intense and focused. The laser of his gaze continued as he bent down, eyes locked with hers as his tongue, mobile torturer’s device that it was, replaced his thumb in flicking ever-so-delicately over her center, lapping gently at the moist heat that filled all his other senses.
Chloe could hold his gaze for only a few moments before the sensation became overwhelming and her head rolled back against the cushions. Together, they brought her over the edge, her hand over his, thrusting in concert. When she came, it was unpracticed and raw, something that was new to him entirely – and very little was new to him at all. Her uncontrolled jerks and unconscious internal spasms around their entwined hands were enough to have him closing his eyes and swearing softly, sweat beading his forehead in a mighty effort to not embarrass himself.
Long moments passed as Chloe drifted gently back, giving Lex the time to recover himself and ease the way for her with a series of soft kisses and caresses. There was not, as he’d expected, a sudden rise in the tension between them. Instead, she opened her eyes, startling in their mossy-green and vibrant hue. More startling in their direct confrontation with his own carefully neutral gaze.
“Wow.” The smile unfolding across her face was like sunshine breaking through clouds, though Lex chided himself internally at the use of the tired phrase. It was pure bliss, unencumbered by regret or doubt, and Lex was assaulted by a fierce surge of pride; base and basic in its origins. He was fiercely proud that *he* had done this, had unclothed the naked beauty of this girl’s spirit, stripped of pain and polite suffering, damn the cost.
“Wow.” He quietly agreed, and the smooth grin that spread across his mouth was a close approximation of hers, hindered only by the throbbing heat between his own legs.
The look in her eyes was a keen one as she took in the lesser glory of his expression. One pale eyebrow arched, and Lex felt a quick pulse of alarm – exactly *what* incisive power had been unleashed from its confines? For he knew that in an instant, she had assessed the situation, decided the best course of action, and determined to follow through. Damn the cost. It was left only for her to clue him in on the decision. But make no mistake, the decision had been made.
She shifted herself, pushing back to gain enough leverage and return to a semi-sitting position from her uninhibited sprawl across the upholstery. Lex’s fingers reluctantly slipped from inside her, and they both winced slightly at the sudden chill – physical as well as mental. He remained where he was, awkwardly crouched at her feet, the hand that had been so recently within her cradled protectively at his side.
Chloe looked down at herself and snorted in amusement as she surveyed the damage; one cup of her bra ripped beyond repair, clothes wrinkled almost beyond recognition. Her gaze fell upon him, still immaculately attired from head to toe, and her forehead wrinkled in concentration. Lex tensed, and suddenly found himself awash in regret. He was certain that this was it, the end, when she ran screaming from the room and he was driven from the town like the pariah they’d always suspected him to be.
Luthors, he later thought dimly in some far recess of his mind, were certain of all the wrong things.
The thought was a last piece of cognitive flotsam, his higher functions torn asunder by a tsunami of raw, uncivilized, untempered hunger as Chloe ripped past his defenses with an utterly unexpected act; though by now he should have learned to *expect* the unexpected from her.
Calmly, with a deadpan expression that gave him no hint to her intentions, she leaned over. Picking up his hand, *the* hand – still glistening with the coating of her fluids, she nonchalantly set about licking his fingers.
Each. And. Every. One.
Dry.
Lex’s groan was full-bodied and thunderous, and his eyes startled open, wondering fleetingly if the innocent, ignorant, Talon patrons had just gotten an earful. He found himself without the will to much care, though, as her hands left his and grabbed his lapels, hauling him up to land beside her. He laid sprawled out, half-sitting, half-reclining as she had been seconds before.
Now, Chloe was turning, full breasts swaying gently and sending another painful twitch through his groin. Laughing in sympathy as Lex moaned in protest, Chloe craned her neck to look him in the eye from her new vantage point. The sympathy did Lex little good as he surveyed her from her new position, tucked underneath his arm, breasts pushed up and brushing hard nipples against the fabric of his suit, skirt hiked to reveal the wet crotch of her panties between wantonly splayed legs.
Lex whimpered. Then he reached down tentatively, his hand moving almost of its own accord, to capture one of the taunting nipples between his fingers, rolling it gently and hissing in appreciation. Chloe gasped herself, but firmly pulled Lex’s hand away. He stilled, unsure of his position and absurdly hurt by her apparent rejection.
Chloe clucked quietly, one hand reaching up to pull Lex’s gaze towards hers. His eyes had gone distant, retreating to a place where he could deal with the discomfort and the ramifications of his actions. She clucked louder when she saw this, and shook her head reprovingly.
“Lex, Lex… you know better than that.”
His eyes grew softer -- still guarded, but less distant. He didn’t know what she meant, but he did know that the Chloe Sullivan that had been gasping at his actions minutes before was made of sterner stuff. She wasn’t going to run screaming from… whatever this was, he had at least that reassurance.
Playfully, Chloe pulled at the buttons of his silken shirt, fingers sliding in between the buttons to gently abrade his smooth chest with her calluses. Her gaze was down, concentrating entirely on her task as she unbuttoned his shirt slowly, steadily exposing an expanse of leanly muscled, pale skin for her palms to delight in.
He gasped as they did just that, hands teasing their way from one of his nipples to the next, plucking them into reluctant points. Satisfied with their task, her fingers trailed idly up and down his torso, seemingly with no purpose, dancing points of light against his skin.
They continued that way for a minute – an hour, he could not say. All Lex could vouch for was the expression in her eyes when Chloe finally did look up. Startling green embers met his gaze, and he was struck by the similarity in their expressions. Her face seemed taut, angles and planes sharply defined as her hunger and her determination made her less, and more.
The fierce glow in her eyes softened, and he was reminded that Chloe might not be a master yet, but she was well on her way to savant status. All at once she was a playful, giggling creature, full of mischief and good cheer. He didn’t know if that boded ill or well for him.
“Want to know a secret?” She whispered the words in his ear, soft lips brushing the smooth cartilage and doing indescribable things to all parts of Lex’s anatomy. He barely had the strength to nod as his hands, safely anchored on her shoulder and the sofa’s arm, squeezed tight in response to the dual sensation of her lips on his ear and her fingers twirling across his chest.
“Newton’s Third Law has always been a personal favorite.”
He gasped as one of her fingers playfully flicked his belly button, inches away from his painfully tented trousers.
“And which… which one…”
The sentence, half-gasped to begin with, remained unfinished as her hand smoothed the length of his erection through the thin silk of his pants. Helpless, Lex bucked up off the couch into her waiting hand, fingers gently massaging him as he moaned in a broken, desperate fashion.
His eyes fluttered open as the zipper sounded loud in the air, and hot hands found their way inside his boxers. She was grinning impishly at him, and he had a feeling that she’d tell him anyway.
“Every action, Lex…”, warm fingers surrounded him, a sure grip found its way to the base of his penis and squeezed firmly, “has an equal”, her fingers curved around to cup his sac and squeezed again to emphasize her point, “and opposite”, her eyes dancing, Chloe’s teeth bit gently into his nipple as her fingers flicked his head and used the pre-cum found there to lubricate their path, “reaction.”
The last word was muffled by Chloe’s firm but tender suction on his chest. Lex didn’t have the brains to care, though, as her hand once more gripped him at the base and pulled, long and slow, the skin behind her hand pulled taut as she slid her hand down towards his head. And then did it again. And again.
Gasping, Lex’s head rolled back and he watched from half-closed eyes as she returned his favor, hands working with an innate gift upon his body. He arched up against the couch in an imitation of her earlier movement when she found by touch the dimple in his penis’ head and pressed her blunt nail into it.
She raised her head at his reaction and their gazes met. She was playfully expectant, eyebrow arched. He gave her what she wanted;
“Newton’s Third Law. Definitely my favorite. Definitely.”
….and was rewarded amply for it.
END